


Fifty-Five Fires

by ProstheticLoVe



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Commitment, Concert, Jealousy, M/M, Possible Spoilers, Season/Series 10, set after episode 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProstheticLoVe/pseuds/ProstheticLoVe
Summary: The time Ian and Mickey tried to out jealous each other at an Imperial Mammoth’s concert or how Ian finally got Mickey back.Possible spoilers for the next few episodes.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 8
Kudos: 156





	Fifty-Five Fires

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No one belongs to me!
> 
> I started watching Shameless again after stopping after the 5th season (for obvious reasons) and then started the series again right as season 10 came out. This is my first Shameless story. I got the idea after watching Showtime clip released on Youtube and the stills. 
> 
> I figured I had to add to the fics out there because it’s been frustrating watching Ian and Mickey these last few episodes. This fic is just a theory on what could happen on Sunday’s episode. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!
> 
> Song is taken from The Imperial Mammoth...for humor, mostly.

_ “Fifty-five fires and you call it the night _

_ I got in love with you _

_ I get a little jealous” _

_ -Imperial Mammoth _

* * *

_ When you know, you know, right? _

Ian couldn’t help but shove Mickey’s words right back at him. 

Although, as he gave him an even, hard look, he couldn’t help but notice how the hurt won out over the irritation that he had been wearing every time he saw the younger man since the courthouse. 

However, the redhead just couldn’t help it. 

That look made Ian want to just shake some sense into him, but he knew that Mickey was hurt and wouldn’t come back to him as easily as Ian hoped/wished/wanted he would. 

He just wanted to talk to him and if getting him riled up and jealous was the only way to do it, then so be it.

So without thinking too much about what he had said when Byron had asked if he needed a plus one, he tried to focus on Mickey and getting him back. 

He knew the other man cared about him, it was obvious when Mickey quickly jumped in when Byron mentioned a plus one before Ian could say anything. 

And maybe because of the last few days he had to spend limping after Mickey while he was in pain - both mentally and physically - or the fact that he was growing frustrated with his almost-but-not-quite-fully ex-partner’s desire to shove his ‘new love’ down his throat, Ian let his mouth move without fully thinking about the consequences other than knowing it would peak Mickey’s interest.

It wasn’t ideal, but it was his only option when Mickey couldn’t seem to tear himself away from the elf known as Byron.

When they were younger, getting Mickey jealous was always the way to get him exactly where Ian wanted him, so maybe that was the only way he was going to get to the Southside piece of trash he’d fallen for all those years ago.

Goading him with Ned got Ian his first kiss with Mickey.

Working at the White Swallow helped him to open up a little more and go after what he wanted.

Fucking random guys at school always made Mickey come around when he was out of juvie.

So even though they were supposed to be five years smarter, that didn’t mean that old habits didn’t fucking disappear.

If Ian wanted to get Mickey to talk to him, then he was going to need to make him jealous.

Even if that wasn’t what he wanted to do.

Even though the last thing he wanted to do was hurt him  _ again _ .

For the millionth time it seemed like.

What Ian wanted to do was sit down and apologize to him, not just for the courthouse, but for the border, for the porno, for his disease, for basically putting up with all of the shit Ian had forced Mickey through because he couldn’t get his shit together. 

But he also wanted to tell him that he loved him and couldn’t...they couldn’t keep running from each other when one of them did something that upset the other.

He should know that better than anyone at this point that running really wasn’t the answer.

Ian already knew he’d hurt Mickey enough, though, that’s why he was acting the way he was after all.

But if what he actually wanted to do panned out, then Mickey wouldn’t be topping some glittery twink fucker whose name he couldn’t even remember, despite claiming he was the  _ love of his life _ .

Although, Ian couldn’t help but notice that Mickey almost choked on the term  _ love of his life. _

That had sparked some inkling of hope within him that Mickey was just doing this because...well, because Ian knew he fucked up. 

And rationally, he knew he should just tie Mickey to a chair and make him listen to him. While the possibilities were illuminating for that scenario, making him jealous was a tried and true way with Mickey to come around.

He knew he was playing dirty - they both were really - and he didn’t truly have any intention of seeking some guy out to throw in Mickey’s face (although, he really should to give Mickey a piece of his own medicine) but what Mickey didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

As long as he thought Ian was fucking other guys...

It was the end result that counted anyway.

Even if all Ian was really doing was staring at the spot Mickey used to sleep, breathing in his too quickly disappearing scent on the pillow and sheets, and thinking of inventive ways to scratch the ever present itch under his cast.

Besides, he was starting to get a little desperate to get Mickey back.

His mind was starting to show him images of himself months from now, without Mickey, looking like a redheaded unabomber.

Also, he, unfortunately, was looking desperate.

He knew that.

He was tired of trekking all the way across town just to be turned away and it was beginning to show.

Anyway, there was no logical reason that Ian would be hanging around some hipster, gentrified neighborhood in Boystown - and neither should Mickey - with shit like organic and crafts shops dotting the corners.

So really, he was doing them both a favor if he could end this hiccup in their relationship as quickly as possible.

And he was willing to do whatever it took to get Mickey back as soon as he could.

So he began to plan as he limped home after attempting to talk to the actual love of his life yet again. 

* * *

“What are you doing?” 

Ian looked up at his brother who was bouncing a cranky Freddie. He was spiraled out on the couch with his leg propped up on the coffee table on a pillow in front of him and some mindless action movie playing on the TV. His phone was in his lap as he boredly swiped guy after guy on Grinder.

“Plotting.” Ian said making a face at a too muscled and oily 30 year old brunette.

He felt Lip glance over his shoulder and without looking at his brother, he knew that he was making his ‘are you sure you want to do this face?’ It had been a popular one every time Ian brought up Mickey - no matter how many years it had been.

“What exactly are you plotting?” Lip asked carefully as Freddie began to quiet down.

Ian tapped his leg as he considered the blonde haired man on his phone screen. He had no bio and only three pictures - one of them was with a girl. He decided to swipe right because...well, he only really wanted one guy and right now he was getting desperate to find a date for the following night.

“Getting Mickey back.” 

“Hm...and how does that include looking at other guys on the gay tinder?” 

“It - it just does.” 

There was a long pause and Ian swiped past a few more options that were definitely not his type. He felt the couch dip beside him and he saw out of the corner of his eye Lip sit beside him with a finally sleeping Freddie on his shoulder. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” he said shortly.

Lip raised his eyebrows and gave him an annoyingly patronizing look. 

“Ian--”

“I went over to the twink’s to talk to Mickey...he still won’t talk to me. I-I keep trying and - and I just...he won’t talk to me. I know that I deserve what he’s doing, but I fucking don’t...it’s still bullshit.” Ian stuttered out trying to explain the situation to his brother.

Lip waited patiently as Ian took a deep breath to try and talk a bit more calmly. This shit with Mickey was grating on his nerves and he knew was only going to get worse the longer it wore on.

“I just wanted to talk to him and he keeps saying that  _ Byron _ is the love of his life. I know it’s all bullshit, but it’s still difficult to see him with another guy and...Byron doesn’t seem so bad really, he invited me to a concert with them for tomorrow night.” Ian rambled and then waved his phone in his hand. “I’m inviting a date.”

Lip’s eyes squinted in that way they did when he was trying to figure something out and he couldn’t quite understand it. 

“Ian--”

“I know what you’re going to say. Am I really doing this? Why don’t I just make Mickey talk to me? Is double dating the best idea...but I know what I’m doing and it’s going to  _ work _ . It has to. I know Mickey, I know what’ll get him to talk to me and while making him jealous isn’t really what I want to do...if it gets him to talk, then whatever.” he said vehemently.

Lip nodded once and sat back into the couch and looked down at the baby in his arms. “If you know what you’re doing, then don’t let me stop you--”

“Good.” Ian went back to swiping through the dating app.

“But I do think you’re going to make Mickey more angry than jealous. He’s already hurting and making him jealous doesn’t seem to be--”

“Lip, I know what I’m doing.” Ian said giving him an annoyed look.

Lip held his hands up in a surrender motion. “All I’m saying is that he’s already broke one leg. I don’t want to have to come get you from the hospital cause your other leg is broken too. Or your arm. Or your head.” 

“That’s not going to happen. He didn’t really mean it. He was just--” Ian snapped.

Lip stood up and looked down at him, “I’m just saying you should think about what you’re doing before either of you fuck shit up more than it’s already fucked up. I don’t want to…” Lip trailed off and Ian gritted his teeth already knowing the path Lip was trying to go down. 

He knew Lip was about to say something about his sickness and he knew the only reason it was annoying him was because there was some merit to it. 

Ian opened his mouth to respond, but Lip was leaving to head back to his trailer to put Freddie down. He debated calling after him, but instead turned back to his phone and rolled his eyes at the next guy that came onto his screen.

“Fuck.” he muttered throwing his phone onto the couch cushion next to him and then looking at the ceiling feeling beyond irritated. 

His plan was already falling apart and step one wasn’t even complete.

* * *

The following night Ian found himself staring at his closest feeling dissatisfied with his options. Much like he had on Grinder last night.

He wondered who he could ask to borrow some clothes that would fit him properly.

He came up with a big fat no one. 

As he stared at his closet unseeingly, he saw Carl hurry past his room and he called out to him. His little brother backtracked and popped his head past the doorway.

“What’s up?” Carl asked.

“Do you…” Ian trailed off feeling unsure of himself. 

Carl stepped into his room and took in Ian sitting there in a towel staring at the small closet. 

“Are you okay?” he asked glancing around the room.

Ian saw him eye the medication on the bedside table.

“I...I need something to wear to this stupid hipster concert.” he said begrudgingly.

Carl stared at him, “well, you’re the gay one, shouldn’t you have the best fashion sense?”

Ian glared at him and Carl smirked glancing over at the clothes. 

“What concert are you going to?” he asked staring at the closet for a moment. Then he grabbed a flannel that Ian knew belonged to Mickey and went over to the drawers to find a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“Some shitty band.” Ian said taking the clothes from Carl.

“Sounds boring.” 

“It probably will be.” 

“Then why are you going? You aren’t going on a date are you? You’re not  _ actually _ going 

to date other people, right?” Carl asked looking a little unsure of his brother.

Ian’s eyes widened and shook his head a little too quickly.

“Fuck no.”

“Then--”

“I’m just going to make Mickey jealous and distract him away from his new boytoy.” Ian said quickly.

Carl frowned, “seriously? And you think that’ll work.”

Ian shrugged, “getting him jealous has worked before.”

Carl was quiet for awhile as Ian stared down at his clothes and willed himself to start getting ready, but he was feeling pretty unsure if he should even go. He hadn’t found a date on Grinder and when he tried to reach out to any past dalliances, he realized that he’d pretty much burned 99 percent of the bridges in that department.

So, in short, he was fucked.

And what made it worse was that he was in this fucking cast and could barely walk, so what the fuck was he doing going to a concert?

Also, his self-esteem was fucking shot because of all of the shit that was going on. The fact that his lover of 10 years was shacking up with someone else would contribute to his low self-esteem.

Then there was the fact he had a record.

And he was from the Southside, so people already had a preconceived notion about him.

But if he was being honest with himself, he knew his self-esteem had substantially dropped when he realized that he was going to be mentally stuck like this for the rest of his life. 

Bipolar for a lifetime - how wasn’t that something that would lower your self-esteem or the way you looked at yourself? 

Granted, it had gotten better in the last few years, but he was only human and the view of himself - disease included - was constantly changing.

Unlike his pretty stagnant love for Mikhailo ‘Mickey’ Aleksandr Milkovich. 

“What if it doesn’t work?” Carl asked suddenly.

“What?”

“What if it doesn’t work? You, making Mickey jealous with whatever guy’s weiner you got to wave in his face?”

Ian paused as he considered Carl’s question. “Why wouldn’t it work?”

Carl shrugged and looked over at Ian’s meds again. “Maybe he’s really hurt, you know. Like, he doesn’t know if you really love him. Or care or whatever.”

“He  _ doesn’t _ think that I really love him.” Ian confirmed thinking back to how Mickey said those words to him outside of Byron’s a few days ago.

“Then how’s making him jealous going to work?”

“Carl--”

“I know you love Mickey and I know Mickey loves you, so I don’t know why you guys don’t know that about each other. I bet that glittery twinkle knows too.”

“Twink.”

“Whatever. I’m just saying anyone who has met you guys won’t buy that you’re not into each other. And anyone that thinks that you guys aren’t  _ meant to be _ is just fooling themselves. Cause we all can fuckin’ see it.” Carl said standing up and for once, towering over his brother.

Ian blinked and then glanced down at the pile of clothes in his lap.

“Good luck.” Carl added moving to leave.

“Thanks.” he muttered wondering when Carl had started to outsmart all of them.

* * *

Ian hobbled off of The L and toward the ‘super secret’ concert venue Byron had texted him. 

How he got Ian’s number was a mystery; he almost wanted to laugh at the thought of Byron nagging a begrudging Mickey to give up that piece of information.

He headed down the stairs carefully and limped the two blocks along with a decent sized crowd. He tried to ignore the glances he was getting as he came to a stop in front of the venue and headed inside. He couldn’t help but look around at the very hipster-dressed crowd and smirked as he saw how very much he stood out from everyone else.

Even more so than usual.

The dressed down look was a minority in the sea of people. Most of the concert goers went for an array of clothes from past eras just so they could stand out or say they ‘brought it back in style.’ 

While flannel was a popular pattern, Ian’s casual black shirt and jeans made his usually normal look all the weirder against the crowd of sparkled, vibrant, or eccentric clothing options. 

For this, he was thankful, since he spotted Mickey almost instantly, who like him, was also dressed in casual clothing.

A black sun in a sea of shimmering change, Ian had spotted his constant at the same time Mickey saw him.

Ian lifted a hand to wave, probably a little too eagerly, before he spotted Byron talking to some people near Mickey and he was reminded of the fact that his plan was totally fucked. He didn’t have a date and Mickey was here with someone else.

He watched the brunette frown at him and then move closer to Byron. He saw his arm move as if to throw it around Byron, but then he stopped himself and glanced away from the redhead before letting his eyes dart back to him as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Ian sighed and then prepared to limp toward them when one of his crutches accidentally caught some girls ridiculously high heel and he lunged forward. He braced himself to hit the sticky bar floor on the side of his body that wasn’t already broken and almost sighed in relief when the impact never occurred.

“Woah, partner, are you okay?” A slight southern accent asked.

Ian’s eyes opened - having closed on their own accord as he prepared for his descent to the ground. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Ian looked up at the man who had caught him and raised his eyebrows feeling a little shocked at the forwardness of the stranger. 

He was a tall blonde-haired man with black square glasses and bright green eyes. He gave Ian a sheepish grin and helped right his footing. He noticed that his hands were the last thing to leave his body as he gained his balance.

He glanced over at Mickey who was watching them with unconcealed annoyance.

“Are you here with anyone?” Ian asked catching the man off guard.  
“What?” The blonde asked with wide, confused eyes.

Ian began to speak quickly because he could see Mickey dragging Byron through the crowd toward them.

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend--”

“What?”

“Please, I’ll buy your drinks all night.”

“But--”

“Ian.” Mickey greeted glaring at the man whose name Ian didn’t even know.

Ian forced a grin on his lips and looked back and forth between Mickey, the blonde guy, and Byron who was looking amused next to his badass Southside almost-but-not-quite ex-boyfriend.

“Mickey, I’d like you to meet--”

“Phillip.” The blonde man grinned and extended his hand while Ian nearly swallowed his tongue as he said his name.

Mickey raised his eyebrows and looked at Ian in amusement. “Phillip. Do you go by a nickname, Phil-lip?” Mickey drew out his name while looking at Ian. 

“My friends call me Phil, but only if we’re friends.” Phillip said laughing slightly and wrapping an arm around a frigid Ian.

“And you are?” the blonde asked turning to Byron as Ian and Mickey stared at each other. 

Ian tuned out the blonde and Byron talking as he watched Mickey watch him. He saw Mickey’s eyes dart to the blonde and his eyebrows raised a little higher. His expression said ‘really, Ian, really?’ 

The redhead could tell by his fingers scratching at the top of his lip and the spark in his blue eyes that he wasn’t feeling the least bit jealous, just entertained because he knew that he would never fuck a guy who had the same name as any of his brothers.

They had a conversation about it once.

Not that long ago.

So Ian knew that Mickey remembered.

And if he had any doubts, the sparkle in his eye and smirk on his lips confirmed it.

“How’d you guys meet?” Mickey asked directing his question to Ian, but the blonde jumped in right as Ian started to speak.

“Gay club.”

“School.” 

Ian let his eyes roll toward the ceiling as Mickey’s smirk widened as he watched him. 

“It was at both, actually.” Phillip said quickly.

Ian let out a low frustrated sound and then looked around for the bar. “I’m going to get a drink. Does anyone want one?” 

“I’ll have a Long Island.” 

“Lemon drop. Mickey, honey, how about you help Ian?” Byron said shoeing them away.

“It’s okay! What kind of  _ boyfriend _ would I be if I didn’t help out my  _ lover _ ?” Phillip said laying it on thick and moving to start walking with Ian who was already getting ready to head to the bar.

Mickey rolled his eyes hard and moved in front of the blonde, “I’ll go. Stay and keep, Berry, company.”

Ian smirked to himself as they headed toward the bar together. He was beginning to think his plan was working until Mickey opened his mouth.

“You’re not getting anything alcoholic, right? I mean--”

“Why do you care, Mickey? I thought  _ Byron _ was the  _ love of your life _ . Shouldn’t you be worried about  _ his _ alcohol intake?” Ian said a bit more snidely than he meant to. 

“Jealous?” Mickey asked daringly.

Ian pushed past a couple making out as they finally got to the bar. “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

Mickey shrugged and stepped in front of Ian to wave down the bartender. The taller man looked at the back of Mickey’s neck, at the pale splattering of freckles he loved to kiss and lick when they fucked or when he woke up...or really whenever he felt like it. His grip on his crutches tightened to stop himself from reaching forward and allowing his fingertips to feather over the skin.

“Have you even listened to any of this music?” the younger man asked to say something.

Mickey was silent and Ian could almost hear him trying to weigh his options for answers. “It’s okay.” he said finally and Ian let out an annoyed huff.

“How long are you going to keep this up?” he asked as Mickey finally got the attention of the bartender. 

“Two Buds and…” Ian swore he was grimacing if he could see his face. “A Long Island and a... Lemon Drop.” 

The bartender nodded then went to make the drinks.

“Can’t we just talk?” Ian tried again.

Mickey moved to grab a cigarette and put it to his mouth before remembering he couldn’t smoke in the bar.

“Haven’t you said everything you needed to say?” Mickey asked tapping the cigarette on his pack.

“Not even close. Come on Mickey, do you really want to listen to some assholes play some shitty harp music just to prove a point?” 

“Maybe!”

“Mickey--”

“$25, even.” the bartender said coming back and sliding the drinks over to Mickey. 

He made a face, threw $30 onto the counter before handing Ian a drink to carry, and going back to the guys. 

Ian glared at him as he moved clumsily through the crowd and tried to avoid tripping over anything else. He glanced up as he attempted to move past a particularly large group and caught Mickey looking at him with a helpless look on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but the shorter man turned away and pushed through a group to finally stop in front of Byron and Phillip, who seemed - much to Ian’s chagrin - to be hitting it off pretty well. 

In fact, Byron’s hand was lightly resting on Phillip’s arm. 

So Phillip was gay, Ian mused as he came to stand between Mickey and Phillip.

“Thanks so much.” Byron said taking his Lemon Drop and sipping it with his pinkie in the air. 

“So, Phillip was just telling me how much he loves Imperial Mammoth too. Ian, have you gotten a chance to listen to them, yet? I’ve been playing Fifty-Five Fires nonstop for Mickey, and oh my God, it gets better, like _every_ _time_.” Byron gushed.

Ian raised his eyebrows and looked at Mickey with amusement. “ _ Really? _ I don’t know that one, but I hope they play it. I bet it’s  _ really good _ if Mickey likes it.” Ian flashed a grin at Mickey who rolled his eyes and Ian noticed his fingers itch for his pack of cigarettes again.

“Hey Mick, you want to smoke a cig before the band comes on?” Ian asked knowingly.

Mickey glared at him and then looked over at Phillip who was watching them with interest. 

“I could use a cig.” Phillip said shaking his own pack and grinning at Ian, who wanted to cringe in response, but that wouldn’t exactly bring out Mickey’s jealous side.

“I don’t smoke, so I’ll stay here.” Byron said turning his nose up at them.

Ian rolled his eyes as he began to limp toward the door. They reached the entrance and he moved to tuck a crutch under his arm to open the door right at the same that Mickey and Phillip went to open it for him. He watched feeling a little shocked that Mickey was giving Phillip such an open hostile look.

If he was being honest, he could feel the glee creeping in too.

“I got the door.” Mickey barked.

Phillip made a surrender motion and took a step beside Ian before wrapping an awkward arm around his shoulders. “How’s your leg feeling, babe?” 

Ian winced at the nickname and tried to shrug the heavy arm off - it just didn’t feel right - but when he saw Mickey’s annoyed look escalate to glaring, he moved a fraction of an inch closer. 

“Uh, great. Just hurts a little.” Ian said casually moving to step across the threshold as Mickey held the door for him. As Ian finished stepping outside, Mickey let go of the door and smirked when he heard a muffled ‘ow.’ 

“Oh sorry, blondie, I thought you were outside already.” Mickey said giving him a wide smug grin.

“It’s - It’s fine.” Phillip stuttered fixing his glasses and looking a little pink.

“Got a light?” he added as Mickey began to inhale his cigarette. The brunette passed it to Ian and he wondered if that was a subconscious action or if he was already staking his claim.

“No.” Mickey snapped staring at the blonde.

Phillip shifted uncomfortably and looked over at Ian who was placing the cigarette between his lips and puffing. 

“So how’d you guys meet?” he asked to fill the silence.

Ian and Mickey looked at each other and he wondered if the older man’s taken aback expression was mirrored in his own face. 

It wasn’t a question they ever got. Everyone who was in their lives already knew the whole sordid affair of how they first got together. 

And while Ian enjoyed the first story of how they fucked, Mickey wasn’t so keen on rehashing that period of his life. 

Perhaps it was because his father was such a sick fuck. Or maybe it was because they were forced to hide who they were for years, Ian didn’t know. 

Besides, that was the first time they  _ fucked _ . Not how they met...which was in, like, the first grade or some shit like that. 

Well, Ian’s first grade year, not Mickey’s, who was two years older and in Lip’s year.

But even then, it was such a long time ago that Ian didn’t really know when he first  _ met _ Mickey Milkovich. 

He probably knew the Milkovich name way before he actually knew Mickey. Collin or maybe it was Iggy had been in Fiona’s year. So he probably knew them before Mickey...but then he and Mickey had also been on Little League together…

Their relationship was just like one of those that didn’t have a definite beginning.

And, Ian knew, would never have a definite ending. 

They were just one of those couples who were never truly finished with one another.

“That’s a loaded fucking question.” Mickey said finally.

Ian wondered if he went through the whole process of trying to nail that answer down too.

“Okay...how long were you guys together?” Phillip asked, “Ian, never said.” 

“10 years.” Mickey said quickly.

“On and off.” Ian added quietly.

There was an awkward pause and Ian took the chance to put the cigarette to his lips for lack of anything else to do. Before Ian knew what was going on, Phillip leaned forward and put their cigarettes together to light them. The newcomer pulled back before he even knew what had happened.

“Wow, my longest relationship was, like, a year.” Phillip marveled blowing out smoke.

Ian turned to Mickey and saw him blinking rapidly and looking down at the cigarette in his hand.

“Mickey--” Ian began because he could tell by the tenseness in his shoulders and the way he was holding his cigarette that he was nearing his tipping point. Before he could say much though, he was interrupted by Byron coming outside.

“They’re running late, so I figured I’d join you guys.” Byron said saddling up next to Mickey. 

Ian watched as he shot Byron a look and stepped back the smallest amount not even bothering to hide his desire to get away from the smaller man.

“What are we talking about?” Byron asked when no one said anything.

“Relationships.” Phillip said glancing between the two men from the Southside and then turning to Byron with a grin.

“Oh. Fun! I love relationships. I mean, they can be hard, of course, but there’s just something so nice when people actually connect on a deeper level. I’ve always dreamed of, like, a meaningful relationship with the right guy.” Byron chattered on looking at Phillip.

Ian focused on the burning tip of his cigarette and tried to nonchalantly catch Mickey’s eye who was avoiding looking at him.

“Oh yeah.” Phillip said, “I totally get that.” 

There was a beat of silence and Byron clapped his hands together, “Well, how about we head back inside and enjoy the show.” 

Phillip nodded, put his cigarette out, and reached to wrap an arm around Ian. He opened his mouth to say something, but Mickey stepped between them with a stormy look on his face. “Touch him again and I’ll break all  _ fourteen _ knuckles in your hand.” 

Ian looked down at the cement to stop himself from anyone seeing him smile. Once he felt like he had a grip on his facial expression, he looked back up curious to know what was going to happen next.

“Mickey!” Byron adminoshed looking appalled. 

“Hey, man!  _ He _ asked  _ me _ to be his boyfriend.” Phillip exclaimed starting to look a little exasperated.

Ian closed his eyes briefly and glanced away with gritted teeth knowing that what was going to happen next wasn’t going to be pretty.

And while he had orchestrated part of this to a degree, he still felt a little bad getting other people involved.

“Does it look like a give a fuck, you Abercrombie knock-off? Don’t fucking touch him. He’s mine.” 

“Is that anyway to speak to Ian’s boyfriend?” Byron exclaimed starting to look panicked.

“Mickey, come on, let’s go talk.” Ian said ignoring the other two men and taking a step closer to Mickey.

“I was just helping the poor guy out. I thought he was cute and looked a little...lost.” Phillip said looking at Ian with overt attraction.

Ian ignored him and shifted his crutches to put a hand on Mickey’s shoulder. “Mick, let’s go.” 

“I think we should just go inside and listen to the music. We can smoke some pot, just chilll-lax.” Byron was rambling, but Ian blocked him out having only interest in one person here.

Mickey finally looked away from Phillip and into Ian’s eyes who was staring at him to try to get his attention.

“Did you fuck him?” Mickey mumbled glancing down before giving him a steely look.

Ian tried to catch Mickey’s pale blue eyes to let him know he was being serious and honest when he answered, “no.” 

He wished they had more privacy than what they were actually offered.

“But if you guys are broken up, I’d be down for it.” Phillip added having caught the question. “I’ve always had a thing for redheads.” 

Without warning, Mickey pushed past Ian and lunged at Phillip with a well aimed punch to the nose. There was a crunch and Phillip fell back onto some unsuspecting young girls who shrieked in alarm. 

The bouncer was on Mickey immediately. He put his hands in the air and shook him off yelling, “I’m going, I’m going.” As he stomped off and away from the venue. 

Ian stood shocked for a moment before readjusting his crutches to go after him without sparing a glance at the guy who he had gotten into the mess in the first place. 

He felt a hand on his arm stopping him and he was surprised to find Byron still standing there looking shaken.

“Why are you even going after him? He seems...like a lost cause. I mean he’s cool don’t get me wrong and the bad boy look…but you could do better.” Byron said looking up at him almost apologetically.

Ian blinked and without thinking, he put all of his weight on his good leg and swung the top of the crutch into Byron’s stomach knocking the wind out of him. 

“Fuck you, you fucking fairy. Don’t ever fucking say that about Mickey again or I’ll take this crutch and really show you what it means to be a bottom.” 

And then Ian hobbled off to find Mickey all the while cursing his slowness because of his crutches.

* * *

He found the older man sitting on the stairs leading up to The L alone. Ian saw he was smoking another cigarette and wiping at his eyes roughly. He sighed as he approached and watched him stiffen up.

“Let’s cut the fucking shit, Mickey.” Ian said feeling exhausted.

“Shouldn’t you be with your boyfriend?” Mickey snarled keeping his head bent.

Ian let out a slow breath and came to stop in front of him. He swallowed before he began to start talking, finally seeing his opportunity to get him to listen. 

“I fucked up. I know that. I hurt you. And I didn’t just hurt you once or twice. But I’ve been hurting you for years, in different ways, and I’m - I’m sorry for that.” He paused and watched the back of Mickey’s neck since his head was still bent down. He could tell he was listening though, his cigarette was dangling from his fingers and his shoulders were tense.

“I love you. More than I can ever really explain. I’ve loved you for years. When we were in prison; when we were fucking in baseball dugouts and behind the bleachers. I’ve loved you since we worked at the Kash And Grab and when Kash shot you. And when you went to juvie for the first time. I even loved you when I was with other guys like Caleb and Trevor...You’re  _ it _ for me. I know that about me…” He gulped and moved down to touch his chin gently to signal that he needed Mickey to look at him for this next part.

Slowly, his head tilted up and he looked at him with big, wet eyes.

“But the thing is, I’ve had all those experiences...and I know what I want...but you...you haven’t had to deal with...I told you once that I wasn’t broken and I’m not...but sometimes--” Ian cut himself off and took another breath as he tried to steady his voice and keep the pleading out of it. 

“I’m not going to be easy. My meds could stop working. I could go a little crazy - okay, a lot. I could end up back in the psych ward...I could fucking slit my writsts...I’m  _ never _ going to be easy, but you have the choice...you don’t have to choose hard, Mickey. I wouldn’t...I wouldn’t blame you, if you wanted - if you wanted something else, something easy.” Ian’s gaze lowered at that and he struggled to lift his eyes back up to maintain contact.

“It’s not loving you that’s been bothering me. It’s...it’s the other stuff. That’s what’s holding me back. If my meds fuck up,” Ian took a deep breathe and focused on Mickey’s blue eyes as his voice dropped lower. “If my meds fuck up, then I could fuck  _ us _ up and I don’t - I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I love you, I trust you. I only want you, but if I’m not thinking straight...if I’m not thinking at all...if my meds stop fucking...I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I’ve hurt you worse than I already have. I want to get married, I just worry that you...you don’t understand that if we get married then my...this fucking sickness inside of me effects you too.” Ian finished in a whisper. 

Mickey blinked slowly and stood up so that Ian wasn’t towering over him anymore. 

“You think that I don’t fucking know that? You think that I don’t already feel affected by you being bipolar. I saw you in a fucking psych ward. You fucking left me. You had sex with other people. Hell, you kidnapped Yevgeny, but I forgave you. You don’t think that’s affected me? But the thing is, I fucking don’t care about any of that because I love you and I know that...shit in your brain isn’t always balanced and that’s fine for me as long as I know you’re okay or will be okay or whatever. I fuckin’ love you, I’d do anything for you, but...you aren’t willing to do anything for me. You aren’t willing to forgive me.” 

Ian flinched unconsciously at Mickey’s words. “I forgive you, I do. And I know that all of that has affected you, I know, but if we get married, then you can’t leave. Ever.”

“And you can’t either.” 

Ian’s eyes widened at those unexpected words. “I wouldn’t--”

“You have.” 

There was a moment of silence as Ian struggled to respond accordingly. He had been practicing this speech to Mickey - because feelings were hard - for a few days now, since he really got to thinking about what was the root of his problem. And he didn’t prepare for this retaliation from Mickey. He was prepared to fight, but not with those words.

“I know.” Ian said quietly acknowledging all the past times he’d left Mickey high and dry. “But I know that you’re it for me. How do you know I’m it for you?”

Mickey let out a humorless laugh and looked away from the redhead. He gave a half shrug before speaking. “I just do. I know it like I knew to fucking give myself up to get back into jail for you. I knew it when I came out for you. Fuck, I knew it when I had to fuck Svetlana to keep my dad from bashing our brains in because I didn’t want to have to see your blood on my father’s hands. I don’t need any other guys to tell me what I already know. I’ve told you this once before, Ian, but you’re under my skin. What the fuck can I do about it except be with you? You were then, and you will be now, 12 years from now, or even fucking 50.” 

Ian was silent as he let those words infiltrate his head.

“Do you really want to get married?” Ian asked quietly looking down. 

“I want you to want to get married, man. I just want you to...I want to be with you. Forever.”

“I want that too.”

“Then why are you getting lost so much in your fucking head?” Mickey asked a note of despair in his tone.

Ian felt his eyes begin to moisten as he considered that question, “I guess. I thought of your first wedding. I thought of Monica and Frank...I thought of that look you gave me on the border. I wasn’t sure if what I could offer you - what little I could offer you...I got...I started to wonder if... if I wasn’t enough for you. What if you got tired of all my...” He made a crazy motion with his hand toward his head and then bit his tongue to keep from letting the tears fall and started to blink rapidly to stop them from falling. 

“I didn’t want to trap you, I guess.” he muttered when he felt sure he could speak again.

“I hate to break it to you, Gallagher, but I’m already marked, trapped, and tangled in you. Have been for 10 fucking years.”

The tears began to roll down Ian’s face despite himself and he nodded quickly trying to form some words. 

“I just wish that you could see it too. I wish you felt that way too.” Mickey whispered.

Ian looked down fully expecting Mickey to leave at this point. “I d-do, I do, Mickey. You’re it for me. Forever. I don’t want anyone else.” Ian said through a throat clogged with emotion. 

There was a long pause and fingers finally reached out toward Ian and tilted his chin up to meet Mickey’s eyes. 

“How about we go home? We can talk about it more there.”

Ian’s heart felt like it was going to leap out at his words and he felt a smile grace his features. Before he knew it, his lips were crashing over Mickey’s and he was feeling relief flood through his body.

“You really mean it?” Ian asked eagerly when they had to part for air. He made sure not to move too far away though and rested his forehead on Mickey’s.

“Yeah, I’ll get my shit from the twink’s later.”

Ian kissed him again in reply and couldn’t believe that Mickey was coming home with him.

Fucking finally.

He savored their lips meeting; it had been so long since they had been together, Ian felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. It was just like everytime when they spent too much time apart.

“This is your last chance though Gallagher. If you fuck up again. I will really find some--”

Ian cut him off with another hard kiss and he felt Mickey’s chest rumble in laughter.

“That’s not going to happen.” 

He kissed him again and pulled him closer, this time making sure the kisses were sweet and filled with promises he couldn’t verbalize yet.

“And if you fucking ever wave some guy in my face again, I’ll break your other leg.” Mickey said pulling away, trying to make a joke out of another topic they had to discuss.

Ian laughed and leaned in once again for another kiss before Mickey helped him up the stairs so they could head home, both feeling thankful they didn’t have to suffer anymore.


End file.
